


Another Birthday Night

by crush (beekeepercain)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Big Brother Dean, Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Brotherly Affection, Brothers, Gen, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 02:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4986994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/crush
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a crappy 18th birthday, but is it really all that bad after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Birthday Night

* * *

 

Dean comes back to the motel late on his 18th birthday, stumbles through the doorway and casts aside his shoes and wet socks against the wall. He’s drunk, but not drunk enough to forget to check on Sam: the boy’s curled up underneath his blanket in his own bed by the far end of the room, making noises that Dean stops to listen to for a moment until they fade out and disappear. He doesn’t even seem to wake up to the sound of his older brother falling against the hollow wall in an attempt to rid himself of his jeans, and Dean’s happy about that. The kid doesn’t need to see him like this, a little too much extra in his blood and traces of smeared lipstick on his lips and neck. And he didn’t even get lucky: the birthday excuse only got him to second base, leaving behind a certain sense of frustration that still hasn’t faded completely.

The bathroom’s yellow light stirs nausea in the bottom of Dean’s stomach as he moves in and nearly falls over before the shower’s even on. He feels  _sick_ , unfulfilled, lonely, annoyed; not the kind of a birthday he wished for. John didn’t bother to show up either - not that Dean expected it. It’ll be good if he gets a happy birthday later that week. The old man will probably write a celebratory note in his journal and consider his duties towards the occasion fulfilled.

The water’s cold. Of course it is; nobody told Sam to get out before the hot water ran out, and that’s mostly Dean’s fault. He’s so tired that he barely feels the water running down his skin, but when he’s out, he’s shivering. Without hesitation, but with a lot of swaying and barely keeping his balance, he pulls back on his underwear and the worn Zeppelin shirt from the pile of clothes he’s left by the doorway. The room’s a blur in front of him, swaying slowly from side to side, as he throws himself on his bed and wrestles the blanket from underneath his tingling body.

God, he could have slept in a better bed tonight. Not for long, of course; he wouldn’t leave Sam for the whole night. But a couple hours. In a nice, soft bed with feminine sheets and a scent that only a girl can carry about her. Something… nicer than this. The mattress creaks and whines underneath him as he shifts, and a weary sigh escapes his parted lips as he settles to welcome sleep. It crawls in like a ghost, submerging him into some intoxicated excuse for rest only for a brief moment before another disturbance sets in. Something else is crawling in his bed. Something that smells and feels like a little brother.

Sam’s weight barely makes the bed whimper at all. He’s smaller than usual, almost completely drowning in Dean’s  _other_  Zep shirt - which Dean sure as hell hasn’t borrowed him. His hair is all over the place, but most of all, it’s in Dean’s face no matter which direction he tries to face. His bony knees poke at various parts of Dean’s body as he curls up underneath the blanket and settles very close to his brother, fingers grasping at the shirt Dean’s wearing and ice cold feet (with his toenails scratching badly at Dean’s skin) pushing between his thigh and the bed for warmth. His face presses against Dean’s chest, the top of his head finally settling in the pit of Dean’s arm, and he lets out a small satisfied sigh that makes Dean’s heart skip a beat.

“Get out, bug. You’re too old for this.”

He gets no answer. For a while his eyes aim towards the window opposite from his bed although sleep keeps driving his lids closed again. Sam’s warmth is just as tempting, but the discomfort of having been woken up at all still lingers and keeps him from drifting back into sleep. Hesitantly he slips an arm around the younger boy’s body and brings him closer, and Sam responds by curling up even tighter: he’s soaking up the affection, the proximity and the attention, which is not only rare but almost completely atypical for him. Dean closes his eyes and waits for a while, but instead of oblivion he finds himself even more aware of his surroundings than before. The alcohol dulls his attempts at figuring out what exactly it is that is digging under his skin, but it’s something, and it won’t let him rest before he’s figured it out.

“Sammy?”

“Mm.”

“You alright there, buddy?”  
Another silence fills the gap where a response should be present.  
“Had a nightmare?”

The silence grows. Dean feels his heart beating in his fingertips and neck, feels it push against his brother again and again and again, and concentrates on trying to locate Sam’s pulse just to see if he can find it. He can’t. His hand slips into the boy’s hair and he brushes through them in slow strokes, twirls them around his fingers and tucks at them gently. Sam sighs again, his body relaxing slightly.

“Whatever it was,” Dean continues after it becomes clear that Sam’s dignity is keeping him from sharing the details, “it can’t get you here, alright? You’re okay, and I’m here. I’ll fight anything that tries to get to you, you know that.”

“You’re drunk.”

“So? I’ll fight them anyway.”  
He can feel the smile against his chest, and it makes something within him stir and puff up, something like pride and affection combined. He loves this kid - loves him more than the whole world. Maybe coming home early isn’t too bad after all. He doesn’t care about Susan, not  _really,_  not like this anyway. Choosing between sleeping next to her on a good bed and having Sam like this on his creaky, hard mattress in this cheap motel room… well, it’s not really a choice, is it.

“I’m just happy you’re home,” Sam finally admits, and his voice resonates inside the older brother until it turns into a shiver that crosses Dean’s spine and makes him hold the younger against him a little bit tighter.

“You know I won’t stay out long.“  
 _Won’t leave you alone, nightmares or no nightmares._ Dean lets his hand down and presses it over Sam’s back between his shoulder blades instead.  
“And anyway, I’m here now.”

“I know.”

“So get some sleep. And don’t complain if I drool on you, this was  _your_ choice.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“As if that’s news to you.”

Sam lets out a small sound, but his hand moves up along Dean’s body and finally wraps around the amulet around his neck. Dean feels his fist close up around it and then his fingers fumbling around its shape until he’s mapped it out and made sure it’s still the same as before. With that and yet another little exhale, Sam finally settles to sleep; his shape seems to melt into Dean’s until he’s all inhales and exhales like waves lapping gently at the shoreline. It’s that sound and the feel of him safe and close that lulls Dean into sleep as well.


End file.
